chapter ten
Providence Station
Transverse, non-congruent
“And that’s where we stand at the moment,” Klaus-Wilhelm said, finishing his presentation to the senior staff assembled in the CHRONO conference room. “To summarize, the Kleio has a promising lead on this so-called Phoenix Institute, which they’re in the process of following up.”
The use of the conference room was something of a formality, since Klaus-Wilhelm was the only person physically present. Peng, as an abstract entity, had no need for the physical space, and the Admin representatives—Muntero, Jonas Shigeki, and his newly synthetic father—were all abstracting in from docked chronoports.
Jonas had argued for a face-to-face meeting, if for no other reason than to demonstrate their faith and confidence in the other side, but Muntero had overruled him unless they went under heavy STAND escort in full combat frames. Jonas judged the presence of Admin “death skeletons” to be . . . counterproductive, and so he’d settled for remote participation.
“What’s Phoebe tasked with next?” Jonas asked.
“Heading out to join the Kleio,” Klaus-Wilhelm said. “I want them to have some backup as soon as possible, given they’ve already been attacked once.”
“Can we send them any additional support?” Peng asked.
“That’ll be a problem.” Klaus-Wilhelm sank back into his chair. “The storm continues to interfere with our communications. I’d like to reorganize our scouting efforts, but that’ll have to wait until the storm clears, which won’t be for another few days.”
“What about dispatching some of the TTVs currently docked?” Peng asked. “Using them as couriers.”
“You mean the ships that could be harboring an Institute terrorist?” Muntero asked pointedly.
“There’s that problem as well,” Klaus-Wilhelm admitted.
“Then we send chronoports instead,” Jonas offered, even though he knew the suggestion was doomed.
His father—seated next to him in their small office aboard Pathfinder-Prime—nodded approvingly.
Jonas was still in the process of mentally adjusting to his father’s . . . new condition. Perhaps he’d find it easier once his father transitioned to a synthoid that outwardly matched his old body, but for now he struggled to associate the man he knew with the unfamiliar face next to him.
“Out of the question,” Muntero snapped.
Here we go again, Jonas thought with a mental sigh.
“My position hasn’t changed. All DTI assets will maintain their defensive posture until further notice.”
“An investigation is already underway,” Jonas said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Hardly. I want the killer found, and that’s that. End of discussion.”
“Be reasonable, Clara.” Jonas fought an urge to roll his eyes. “We can spare a few ships, can’t we?”
“Ships we’ll put to good use,” Klaus-Wilhelm added. “Ultimately, it’ll mean more eyes on the Institute lead.”
“If you want our ships, Klaus, find the culprit first,” Muntero stressed. “Our chronoports aren’t going anywhere until Shigeki’s murderer is found.”
“Hey.” The senior Shigeki smiled at her. “I’m right here.”
“Not legally. And what did I tell you about that uniform? Legally speaking, you’re not even an Admin citizen anymore, let alone a member of the Peacekeepers.”
“I did remove the rank.”
“Not the point, Csaba!” Muntero shook her head, her eyes switching to Klaus-Wilhelm. “What a mess this whole situation is!”
“Would you have preferred I let him die?” the Gordian Commissioner responded stiffly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. But you know as well as I that our laws aren’t set up to handle situations like this. And, if I’m not mistaken, your laws have something to say about the stunt you just pulled.”
“I stand by my decision.” Klaus-Wilhelm leaned back. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’ve seen more than enough death for one lifetime, so to hell with the legal mess I caused. If I or one of my subordinates has the power to save a life, then by God we’re going to save it.”
“Klaus,” Peng began, “I don’t think anyone’s arguing over the morality of what you did. But—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—the truth is Muntero has a point. We have some very strict laws back home that dictate under what conditions a person’s connectome can be copied or extracted, and Rule Number One is consent has to be given.”
“Which I freely grant,” Shigeki said.
“Before the incident.”
“Which I had no way of doing,” Shigeki countered. “Can you show me the process by which I could’ve granted that consent?”
“No, but that argument’s not really going to cut it.”
“How much of a problem are we talking about here?” Jonas asked. “For Commissioner Schröder, I mean.”
“I don’t know.” Peng rested his temple against his hand, his blue eyes glowing with concern. “There’s going to be an official inquiry, I can guarantee you that much. But perhaps, in light of the unusual circumstances, we can frame it as a situation where the victim’s consent wasn’t clear one way or the other. The legal landscape between SysGov and Admin is lagging behind the realities of what we’re trying to do out here, so Klaus would have that defense on his side.”
“Well, whatever comes your way, you’ll have my full support,” Shigeki said to Klaus-Wilhelm with a nod.
“Thank you,” Klaus-Wilhelm replied. “I appreciate it.”
“For what little it’s worth,” Muntero said, “given you’re not a citizen anymore.”
“Yes, we get it,” Jonas said before his father could lay into Muntero. “We’ll need to consult with our government on how to handle the situation—it certainly won’t be the last time something like this comes up—but for now our operational hierarchy is clear. I’ve been recognized as Acting Director-General of the DTI, and I’ll retain the ‘noncitizen’ beside me as an advisor. Is everyone okay with that?” He gave Muntero a sharp eye, making it clear whom he was asking.
“Yes, yes,” she dismissed with a brief wave. “That’s fine.”
“Back to the problem of terrorists in our midst.” Klaus-Wilhelm sat forward. “The Gordian Division is doing what we can to isolate the problem. No one leaves the station until the Themis investigation is complete. All ships currently docked or in transceiver range around the time of the incident will remain here until further notice.”
“What about the DTI?” Peng asked.
“Most of our ships are similarly grounded,” Jonas said.
“‘Most’?”
“We’re still using Hammerhead-Seven as a courier, allowing us to keep in contact with headquarters during the storm. It hasn’t made physical contact with the station recently, so there’s no need to ground it. In fact, we just received the latest information from back home: progress updates on the terror cell investigations plus details of the latest attacks.”
“Attacks?” Muntero asked. “As in plural?”
“Yeah, plural. Vassal has already started his analysis.”
“Vassal?” Peng asked, his tone one of forced innocence. “Would that be the sentient you keep on a leash?”
Jonas opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and closed it shut. Peng’s remark reminded him he wanted to speak with his father about Vassal—and specifically, the AI’s viewpoint on slavery—but all that got blown out the airlock when he learned a killer was loose on the station.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Jonas replied diplomatically, “but yes.”
“Does your leashed AI have anything to add?”
“Not at this time, Consul.”
* * *
Isaac Cho crouched next to a waist-level red dot on the corridor wall. The text above the icon read BLAST EPICENTER, though there was no damage evident on the wall; the corridor may have lacked an active infostructure, but microbot swarms had already swept through to inspect the area’s structural integrity and repair the damage.
Isaac toggled the icon, and concentric transparent spheres bloomed outward, each one darker and fainter than the last, their shapes deformed by the ceiling, floor, and opposite wall. He rested his forearm across a knee then swept his gaze to the side, eventually falling upon the two broken bodies. Virtual bodies, in this case, superimposed over his eyesight and based on the sensory records from those present. His LENS and Specialist Gilbert’s forensic drones floated about the crime scene.
“I’m surprised they managed to save him.” Susan stood behind Isaac, hands clasped behind her back as she took in the virtual carnage.
“Me too.” Isaac pushed off his knee and stood up.
He walked over to the Shigeki-chunk with a head and studied the shredded flesh of the man’s face. Gordian had already collected the bodies and physical evidence, and he doubted their drones would find anything else, but it didn’t hurt to poke around while he and Susan familiarized themselves with the crime scene.
He stopped beside the wall opposite the bomb and ran his fingers across the smooth, restored surface. Crime scene data interfaced with his sense of touch, and he “felt” the pockmarked surface as it had been less than an hour ago.
“You think someone from SysGov did this?” Susan asked him quietly.
“We shouldn’t rule out any possibilities.” Isaac let his hand drop from the wall, and he met her concerned eyes. “That said, it certainly looks that way.”
“This one is going to turn ugly, isn’t it?”
“I’m worried it already has.” He glanced down the hall to their forensic specialist and spoke up. “Find anything, Gilbert?”
“Nothing unexpected.” Gilbert joined them and indicated the virtual bodies. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to check in with Gordian and start working on the bodies and what few pieces of the bomb they found. I’m also going to pull the virtual records for this area, get started on those.”
“I thought this corridor didn’t have a working infostructure yet,” Susan said.
“True.” Isaac rapped his knuckles on the wall. “But the zones ahead and behind us do.”
“Ah.”
“If we’re lucky,” Gilbert continued, “I’ll be able to spot how the bomb was delivered.”
“And if we’re unlucky,” Isaac said, “at least we’ll have the beginnings of a suspect list based on recent corridor traffic.” He faced Gilbert. “I know this is somewhat irregular, but we need to keep in mind how time-sensitive this case is. That means I’ll need turnarounds from you as fast as possible.”
“Even if it means I’m not completely confident in the results?” Gilbert warned.
“If you’re not one hundred percent sure, let us know, but we as a team need to be agile on this one. Understood?”
“Yeah, I get it,” Gilbert replied, though he sounded unhappy about the situation. “I’ll do what I can to speed things along, but don’t expect miracles. Sometimes, this work takes however long it takes, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Trust me, I know.” Isaac’s mind wandered briefly to his sister’s work as a forensics specialist.
Cephalie materialized atop Isaac’s shoulder and waved to everyone.
“Hey, kiddos. Former-director Shigeki just called. He’s out of his meeting and ready for an interview whenever you are.”
“Then let’s not waste any time.” Isaac looked over to his partner.
“Ready when you are,” she said.
“I’ll be in the executive medical suite if you need me,” Gilbert said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
“All right. See you later.”
He and Susan headed down the corridor in the opposite direction and made their way to the Admin hangars. They were greeted by a pair of STAND combat frames guarding the entrance, flanked by Wolverine drones. Isaac presented his IDs—both as a Themis detective and a DTI investigator—and the security detail let them through, which wasn’t surprising since they’d passed through the same checkpoint after they arrived.
“Is that level of security normal around here?” Isaac asked.
“I don’t think so,” Susan said. “Certainly not combat frames, at least.”
They backtracked to Pathfinder-Prime’s hangar, passed through another checkpoint at the base of the ramp, then boarded the craft. Shigeki was waiting for them in a small conference room that doubled as the chronoport’s mess hall.
“Hello, Director. I’m Detective Isaac Cho, Themis Division, and this is my deputy, Special Agent Cantrell, whom you may already be familiar with.”
“Director,” Susan greeted with a curt nod.
“We’ve been charged with investigating the recent bombing attack that led to your unfortunate transition. Thank you for clearing your schedule and agreeing to speak with us on such short notice.”
“Please, don’t mention it,” Shigeki said. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’m very much in favor of helping you help me. Also, it’s ‘former director’ until further notice. My ‘death’ seems to have upset the org chart.”
“Because you’re a synthoid now?”
“That’s part of it. I’m sure we’ll get it sorted out eventually. In the meantime, my eldest has taken over most of my responsibilities.”
“Then I’d like to get straight to business, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Shigeki sat down, and Isaac and Susan took their seats opposite him. The LENS settled into position at one end of the long, rectangular table.
“Please state your name for the record,” Isaac began.
“Csaba Shigeki.”
“And can you identify the body you are currently inhabiting?”
“I guess you could say it’s a loaner from SysGov. It belongs to one of the doctors. Ziegler, I believe.”
“This is the only body you’ve inhabited since your temporary death?”
“To the best of my knowledge, yes.”
“Were you provided with a record of transfer following your revival?”
“Um. Maybe.” Shigeki placed his hand on the conference table, but then frowned when nothing happened.
“Is something wrong, sir?” Isaac asked.
“Just getting used to the new body and how it interacts with the abstract. Give me a moment.” He raised his hand palm-up, and a list of files appeared. “The medical staff gave me a whole bunch of forms, and honestly, I haven’t given them a second thought. Is this what you’re looking for?” He expanded one of the files and held it out.
“Yes, that’s the one. May I have a copy?”
“As long as you tell me what this is about first.”
“Certainly. Your record of transfer, as the name implies, is the path your connectome took from the moment of extraction to its current runtime state in your new synthoid. In cases like these, it is important for us to verify that all the correct procedures were followed and that all physical and virtual evidence aligns with the record of transfer.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“That could be a sign of connectome tampering, just to name one possibility.”
Shigeki grimaced at the suggestion, but extended his hand with an open transfer request.
“Thank you, sir.” Isaac copied the file to his LENS.
“Do you think something like that could have happened?” Shigeki asked, sounding worried. “That someone tampered with my mind?”
“It’s hard to say anything for certain this early in the investigation. However, I can say that incidents of this nature are extremely rare, and given that your extraction was performed by a former Arete Division First Responder, I doubt we’ll find anything out of order. With the one exception being your consent documentation.”
“Ah. Of course.” Shigeki smiled, but dark clouds of doubt still hung over him.
“Next, I’d like to move on to the bombing itself. Can you please describe the incident?”
“I’m afraid there’s not much to talk about. I was caught completely off guard. One moment Nox and I—that’s Agent James Noxon—were having a chat on our way back to the hangars. The next, a flash and an impact, and all I remember after that is pain.”
“What were you and Agent Noxon discussing?”
“His love life.”
Susan let out a brief gasp before she caught herself, and Isaac glanced her way. She tried to cover the slip by clearing her throat, an unnecessary gesture given her synthetic body.
“Yeah,” Shigeki said, “that one surprised me, too.”
“Has anyone threatened you with physical harm or death? Recently or otherwise.”
“Oh, you better believe it. Death threats are a fact of life in this job. I consider them the dark inverse to my compensation package.”
“Any you consider credible threats?”
“Quite a few, actually.”
“Such as?”
“You want the full list?” Shigeki cracked a half smile. “We could be here a while.”
“I see your point, sir. Perhaps let’s start with our immediate surroundings. Any threats from Gordian or DTI staff, or anyone else with access to the station?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Anyone express unusually high levels of antagonism toward you? Or perhaps the Admin in general?”
“No, I don’t think—” He leaned back and crossed his arms, glancing upward. “Well . . . ”
“Something comes to mind?”
“I suppose,” Shigeki replied guardedly.
“Please describe the incident.”
“Things got a little heated in a recent CHRONO meeting. But it was just a case of the other side letting off some steam. Hardly worth mentioning.”
“Got heated in what way?”
“I said it wasn’t worth mentioning.”
“I understand you may feel that way, sir. However, it’s our job to consider all possibilities, so I would appreciate it if you shared the details with us.”
“I seriously doubt the culprit is Peng,” Shigeki countered.
“CHRONO Consul Peng Fa? The former commissioner of Arete Division?”
“He was just indulging in a harmless rant.”
“The contents of which were . . . ”
“Fine.” Shigeki sighed. “Give me a moment to pull the transcript.” He materialized a screen above his palm and began to navigate through it, then frowned. “And . . . it appears I’ve been locked out of my own meeting minutes. Would you mind if I make a quick call to sort this out?”
“Go right ahead.”
Shigeki opened the comm window and waited.
“Yeah, Dad?” came the response.
“Jonas, would you mind granting me access to my own DTI account? I think Muntero locked me out.”
“She did what?” The line fell silent for half a minute, followed by, “There. Access regranted. Anything else I can do for you?”
“Not right now. Thanks.”
“Any time.”
Shigeki closed the comm window and opened the transcript file.
“Problems?” Isaac asked.
“Just our consul being her usual pain in my backside. Sometimes I wonder if she even wants us to succeed at all. Now, let’s see about that rant.” He scrolled through the file. “He called us a bunch of barbarians who enslave artificial intelligences. He told us to get a clue and join everyone else in the thirtieth century. He made a crack about our one-way abstractions being torture prisons. Oh, and the best part is where he said, ‘Read my virtual lips: We’re not responsible for your own dysfunction.’ I think that was my favorite part.”
“Would you consider this typical behavior for him?”
“Kind of.”
“Anything else you’d like to add before we move on?”
Shigeki paused for a thoughtful moment, then leaned forward and spoke softly.
“Look, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but getting blown up earlier today seems to have placed matters into a new perspective. So yes, there is something else. However, before I share it with you, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. I am not making an accusation. I’m merely going to share something with you that we in the DTI have had our eyes on for some time now. That’s all.”
“And what might that be, sir?”
“It’s Peng again.” Shigeki leaned in a little closer. “We have a list of people we’re monitoring because there’s a chance they’re involved with these recent terror attacks. Peng is on that list.”
“Why? Because he mouths off in meetings?”
“Give us a little credit. We’re not that thin-skinned. No, the reason Peng is on the list is because sometime last year SysPol was busy putting together contingency plans for how to attack the Admin. Don’t ask me how I know this because I won’t tell you. Suffice it to say, we’re confident in the intelligence we’ve gathered.
“By itself, I don’t consider this anything unusual. Contingency plans are simply that, plans to combat something we hope never happens. That said, the plan Arete Division put forward—the plan with Peng’s name on it—shares more than a few similarities with what we’re seeing right now, especially when you consider how the terrorists are exploiting vulnerabilities in our infostructure.
“That’s why he’s on the list.”